His Pride and Joy
by UnattemptedFeat
Summary: John must explain to Sherlock the meaning of his daughter's birthday.


"Do you think she'll like them, Sherlock?" John was talking to him.

"Will who like what?" Sherlock didn't open his eyes.

John smacked his leg with something hard, "Will Elizabeth like these books? I going to give them to her for her birthday." Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. John was standing there holding _Gone With the Wind_ , _The Phantom of the Opera_ , _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , and _Oliver Twist_. "I looked in her room, and she didn't have these."

"I suppose so." Sherlock said dismissively. He just wanted to go back to his Mind Palace.

"Come on, Sherlock." John scolded. "I've never bought a birthday gift for a teenage girl before."

"She'll like them." Sherlock assured him. She loved to read.

"Alright, good." John nodded. "What did you get her?"

"Nothing."

"You didn't get her anything?!" John seemed upset for some reason.

"No. Should I have?"

"Yes, Sherlock!" John interjected. "Have you ever given her a birthday gift? Ever?"

Sherlock thought for a moment, "No."

"Get up!" John pulled Sherlock off of the couch and to his feet. The doctor shoved his coat at him and told him to put it on. "We are going to the shops. You are getting your daughter a birthday gift."

On the taxi ride, John was fuming, "I have no idea why I thought that you would've gotten your daughter a gift. Did you even celebrate her birthday while she was growing up?"

"Yes!" Sherlock was indignant. "From the time she could walk, I take her to a crime scene every year for her birthday. She loves it!"

John just shook his head.

"Why are gifts so important on birthdays?" Sherlock whined. "They're just things."

"Sherlock, your daughter is turning fifteen tomorrow." John stated. "How does that make you feel?"

"Old."

John sighed, exasperated, "No, Sherlock. How does it make you feel knowing that your little girl is growing into a young woman?"

Sherlock deliberated the question. How did he feel? He supposed that he felt proud of the woman his daughter was growing into. He felt a little sad that soon she would be an adult and wouldn't need him anymore. At least that's what he told John.

"That's my point. Elizabeth's turning a year older. That's a year closer to her becoming an adult. A year closer to having her own family. Her birthday is your chance to show her how proud you are of her."

Sherlock nodded, only half understanding.

John sighed, knowing Sherlock still didn't get it, "Think about it, Sherlock. Think hard. Your little girl is growing up. She isn't going to be little much longer. She'll move out and get her own life. She'll be too busy to go on cases with you anymore. She won't have time to be your sounding board when you're trying to work something out. She won't do experiments with you. She won't cover for you with Mrs. Hudson when you've blown something up. No one will put the fingers back in the microwave for you after I've thrown them out. No one will finish your saliva experiment because you've fallen asleep in your chair. No one will slip you decaf coffee to make sure you don't get too hyper. Think about it, Sherlock."

The detective did think about it. He hadn't really given Elizabeth's age much consideration before, but John was right. She was growing up. She was growing up way too fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that he had read her bedtime stories about unicorns and faeries?

"See my point?" John asked after leaving Sherlock to his thoughts for awhile. Sherlock nodded stiffly.

He definitely did.

The next day, John could barely contain his excitement. Sherlock and Elizabeth had gone to a crime scene and would be back any minute.

He heard them come in, and he got ready.

"Happy birthday!" John shouted the moment Elizabeth walked in. He hugged her tightly.

"Thank you." Elizabeth beamed. John handed her his gifts, and she opened them. John smiled as she thanked him for each of the books. John was glad that she liked them.

"I have something for you too, Elizabeth." Sherlock pulled a small box from his pocket. John leaned forward in anticipation. Sherlock had made him wait in the taxi while he bought her present. No matter how many times he asked on the way home, Sherlock hadn't even given him a hint.

Sherlock opened the box and drew something out of it, moving to stand behind his daughter. He moved her hair aside and clasped a beautiful silver necklace around her neck. John peered at the pendant in wonder.

It was a little silver angel.


End file.
